"Hm! hm!" said Bräsig, shaking his head, "I don't like that; but, Karl, he is getting into years."
"That is true," said Habermann, thoughtfully.
"How is your little girl?" asked Bräsig.
"Thank you, Zachary, she is very well, thank God! She was here last week,--I had no time to spare, I must be out sowing peas, but the gracious lady had seen her, and kept her, and she stayed here until evening.
"Karl!" cried Bräsig, springing up, and walking back and forth, and biting off in his excitement, the knob from the point of his pipe, "you may believe me or not,--your gracious lady is the chief production of the whole human race."
Habermann rose also, and walked up and down, and every time that they met each other, they smoked more violently, and Bräsig asked, "Am I not right, Karl," and Habermann replied, "You are right, Zachary." And who knows how long they would have ruminated upon this topic, if a carriage had not driven up, from which Kurz and the rector descended.
"Good day! good day!" cried Kurz, as he entered the room, "see there, see there, there is the Herr Inspector. Well, how goes it, old friend? Habermann, I came about that clover seed."
"Good day," said Rector Baldrian, to Bräsig, drawing out the word "day," as if the day were to last forever, "how goes it with you, my honored friend?"
"Very well," said Bräsig.
"Habermann," exclaimed Kurz, "Isn't it so? Capital seed!"